Monthly Archives: November 2009

girl, why you let that bitch git up under your grill like that? ya’ll shoulda slapped the shit out of her dumb big-ass mouth who she think she is, steppin’ up in yo face like that bossin’ everybody around like … Continue reading →

with thirty-two places set at a beautiful table      two   maybe four     sat ignoring tender emotions  for the sake of history and tradition        they  circled   the offender and the offended          pretending for the sake of the day    that intense distrust and dislike  wasn’t hovering in anyone’s … Continue reading →

another holiday loomed ahead like a sharp curve     she slammed on brakes   tried to avoid the inevitable  skid  into the  november  downturn…  as every muscle  poised above the small square pedal of her heart  seized       she sat  in seasonal    darkness   knowing that the brakes of this … Continue reading →

speak to me face to face my countenance to yours in person and alive so that i may see your eyes every expression   every line    each smile or grimace each shadow of pain or spark of joy or elation sit here with … Continue reading →

don’t toy with me with this shit   i’m weary and unable to speak this wait is exhausting      stop wasting your fucking time  shrunken and barely there       your distractions keep you tied to failure  the stones you described are  only weights     tied around … Continue reading →

ferlinghetti said of your work           “time will be the tattletale”   yet the silence as time passes screams still we lean in to listen   relying on patience    waiting for the call    poised with eyes opened wide     we wait, yes      but can we  endure tales of one human  … Continue reading →

west washington had a name change during my absence of nearly twenty long years    abbott kinney snuck in   adding its own modern ardour to the venice sideshow       while subtracting more of my rememberance of the past    from its new equation..   the monied color smell of green and … Continue reading →

in an old house in p’town that was covered in vines lived an arty young human adding his lines behind the face of a book he crept my hero is gone (and for this he is lost– i wonder, has he wept?) so … Continue reading →

watching it  from the sidelines          the LA mad poet show unfolded sailing down that generational span        between child and  young adult  i watched        with five    significant years between jailbait         and legal while the show began… watching from the sidelines       the fifties/early sixties … Continue reading →